


Disgusting

by Love_and_Mote



Category: NCIS RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, I believe this actually happened, RPF, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_and_Mote/pseuds/Love_and_Mote
Summary: I've often wondered just what disgusting things he was whispering in her ear. This is smutty RPF. Don't like, don't read.





	Disgusting

He was ready first, and he took the opportunity to chat with the photographer, trying to get a read on what the goal for this particular shoot was.

It wasn’t terribly uncommon for the photo shoots to involve the both of them at this point, for the network knew what it was doing, and right now the chemistry between their characters – and them, for that matter – was a huge draw. TV Guide wanted to do a shoot and an article about the show, with the main focus on the budding relationship between two of the leading characters on the hit drama.

Going out on photoshoots with Cote was becoming more and more common, but he couldn’t seem to find it in him to mind very much.

She emerged from the dressing room and he noted that she was also dressed in blue, coordinating with the blue suit they’d fitted him into. She looked divine, with her hair wavy and the makeup artist’s emphasis on her eyes, and he felt a surge of want at the mere sight of her.

Then again, it didn’t take a whole lot for his beautiful costar to enchant him these days, not with the way his body remembered the feel of her pressed against him in the throes of passion. The network was pushing them together, sure, but they’d done plenty of that on their own.

“Ready?” she said, a casual greeting as she eyed him, her gaze lowering just enough to indicate that she knew exactly what he had been thinking about.

Oh, it was going to be one of _those_ days.

This particular photographer liked to allow them the freedom to pose themselves, and so with little direction they had started, shifting positions and facial expressions every few seconds while the photographer snapped away, capturing moments in the hopes of securing that one perfect shot.

“Angle this way a bit more,” the photographer instructed, and they obeyed, turning in the indicated direction. Michael leaned in, appearing to pose for a more intimate shot and she immediately became aware of the way his hand was wrapped around her waist, and the way his aftershave seemed to waft into her orbit, reminding her of the last time she’d smelled it – a steamy night in his trailer where her legs had been wrapped tightly around him as he rode her to pleasure.

She sucked in an involuntary breath, one which he immediately picked up on. “You’re thinking about the other night, aren’t you?” he breathed softly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. She turned to look at him, noting that his expression appeared innocent, as though he hadn’t just mentioned their clandestine encounter in front of a photographer who would be publishing these photos online within a few hours.

She ignored him, trying to focus on the camera and helping the photographer get his shot.

Michael had other plans, however. “You look good enough to eat,” he growled when he leaned toward her again, turning his head immediately thereafter and giving a facial expression to the camera. Another click sounded and she shifted against him, accidentally rubbing her ass in his crotch.

Okay, maybe _not_ so accidentally. Two could play this game.

His next opportunity came within seconds, and he whispered, “You see that bench over there? I wanna bend you over, hike up that skirt, and fuck you til you scream my name,” he practically growled, and it took all the effort she possessed not to shiver at his words as she glanced over at the bench. There was no way they would get away with it, but she allowed herself to briefly imagine what it would feel like to have him pounding into her, his hands groping wildly at her breasts as he drove into her, hard and fast.

She couldn’t stop the slight gasp she elicited at the image, and shook her head, trying to clear the image from her mind. Michael had caught it, though – he always did – and he grinned, giving the photographer a great shot at that signature smile of his.

He was wrapping his arm around her and pulling her back against his chest, enveloping her in his warmth, and the camera continued clicking away, their bodies moving slightly in time with the rhythmic sounds of the photographic dance they were doing. She smiled for the camera one second, then gave a sultry look the next, hoping that something she was giving would be acceptable. She was an actress and not a model, though the two seemed to overlap more and more often these days.

Michael leaned his head down, angling behind her own so that his words wouldn’t be audible to the others in the room, whispering, “You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” causing another stab of want to shoot through her, settling between her legs, where she wanted his full attention at this point. She pressed against him, hoping that she looked like she was just trying to give a good shot for the cameras, but she wanted him to know that she was _definitely_ onto his little game and that she would play back.

She turned around in his arms, facing mostly forward while he was faced backward, changing up the ways in which they could pose. Michael still had his arm around her waist, squeezing her tightly, and she gave a sultry smile for the camera as he leaned forward again, whispering another dirty secret for her ears only: “You’re already dripping wet, aren’t you? I can’t wait to stick my head between your legs and taste how bad you want me.”

That one made her flush, and she looked at the photographer, explaining, “He just keeps whispering the most disgusting things in my ear.” Maybe if she tried to look repulsed rather than turned on, it wouldn’t appear as if she was seconds away from ripping her costar’s clothes off and riding him right there in front of the entire photography crew.

To be honest, she was pretty close to doing just that.

And he didn’t stop. Every time he got the chance, he was saying something else, another dirty tease that left her wanting, and most assuredly as wet as he suspected she was.

“Will you ride my hand with your hips? Rocking yourself onto my fingers?” _Snap._

“I like that lipstick on you. I can’t wait to see your lips wrapped around my cock.” _Snap._

“I’m going to make you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life.” _Snap._

She was certain she must be panting by this point, her body so tight with desire, but no one seemed any the wiser about her current predicament, and soon the photographer dismissed them back to their dressing rooms, stating that he’d gotten what he needed. Whatever these photos looked like, she would never be able to look at them without remembering the things Michael had whispered in her ear, nor the way she had been so fraught with desire that she was ready to jump him as soon as she got him behind closed doors.

Their opportunity came when they reached her dressing room, and Michael pushed her forward, shutting the door and locking it behind her before sweeping her into his arms and attacking her mouth, groaning his desire into the kiss as he backed her onto the counter where she’d earlier had all of the items needed for hair and makeup.

She felt her ass hitting the hard surface and Michael released her lips, kissing down her neck and causing her to gasp, her hair flowing behind her as she leaned back and gasped with pleasure. _Oh,_ but he was sinfully good at making her entire body come alive with desire.

He lifted her hips off the counter and hiked her skirt up to her waist, not even bothering to remove her panties before shoving his hand roughly inside, dipping his finger between her legs and into her moist center. “You are fucking soaking, just like I thought,” he groaned as he stroked her roughly, causing her to hiss against him and widen her legs, giving him better access.

“Michael, _please,”_ she begged, rocking her hips toward his hand, just as he’d predicted she would. A devilish glint flashed in his eyes at that, but she said nothing, merely allowing her eyes to fall closed as she reveled in the way even his hands could make her feel. He was fucking her slowly with his fingers, brushing his thumb against her clit and reaching with his free hand to remove her panties, pulling them roughly down her legs and allowing them to fall slowly, dangling off the toe of her shoe until she kicked that off, as well.

He desperately wanted to taste her, just as he’d said, and he knelt down between her legs, inhaling her scent and groaning at the way she twitched toward him, offering herself to him. He wasted no time diving in, his tongue ravaging her folds, furiously tasting her delicious center. Almost instantly, Cote’s hand came down to pull at his hair, her hands running through the soft strands, pulling at him when he hit a particularly good spot. _“Michael,”_ she groaned, raising her hips up and into his face, bucking roughly against his chin as he sucked and tasted and teased, reveling in the way she wantonly moved toward him.

He growled against her center, feeling slightly drunk on the sweet taste of this wild woman who pretended to be unaffected but then chased his mouth when he ate her, her head thrashing wildly and her breaths coming in loud, unrestrained moans.

Pausing for a second, he pulled back to catch her gaze, practically murderous in response to him stopping. “Don’t _stop,”_ she said, irritated at this sudden lack of stimulation, and he reached his hand back between her legs and began to stroke her, his thumb rubbing her clit furiously as he stuck his fingers deep inside of her, causing her to moan in relief as the pressure continued to mount.

“I want you to come all over my cock,” he breathed, for as much as he was enjoying eating her out, he desperately wanted to feel her heat wrapped tightly around him as he buried himself deep inside of her, fucking her to oblivion.

“What are you waiting for?”

He wasted no time freeing himself, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out, tossing the jacket to the side as he stepped forward, his eyes dark with desire as she reached for his tie and pulled him toward her. Cote licked her lips at the sight of him, his engorged member dripping precum and straining toward her waiting body. She spread her legs further in anticipation, her hands wrapping around his neck as he lined himself up, grunting roughly at the feel of her moisture coating the tip of his dick.

Christ, she was going to feel _incredible._

He slid forward roughly, unable to hold back. She moaned loudly as his hips crushed into hers, his cock buried fully inside of her. She clenched around him, her eyes glinting mischievously, and he pulled almost completely out, holding himself just at her entrance, slowly rocking himself back and forth between her folds and denying them both the feeling of completion for as long as he could stand it. “Michael, _please,”_ she begged, desperately trying to rock her hips up and take him fully, but he continued to tease, biting his lip as he held out, knowing that the next time he surged into her would cause them both to scream with pleasure.

When he finally did so, she cried out so loudly he was sure security would be at her door and he groaned in unison, reveling at the way she clenched around him as he stilled inside her. “You feel _fucking good,_ Cotes,” he breathed, leaning forward to take her lips roughly, his fingers curling in her hair as he began to move against her, that primal push and pull that left them both panting for breath as they crashed together again and again.

He had one hand holding her thigh up as he rutted into her, the other caressing the wavy locks of hair as he kissed at her wildly – her mouth, her cheek, her ear, her neck, her collar, and back to her mouth. She was pulling on his tie with one hand, twisting it around as he leaned closer to her, and the other hand was braced on his arm, her nails digging into his skin through his shirt, holding on for dear life as her ass teetered off the edge of the counter while he fucked her. She was so close to falling, in several ways, but she trusted him to hold her, to guard her, and she was right on the edge of bliss.

“Michael,” she breathed, the word barely a grunt, indicating that she was nearly there, her hips canting frantically toward his, meeting his every thrust with a short moan.

“With me,” he begged, his face knotting in concentration as he began to thrust more erratically, his cock throbbing with the need to come. She felt tight and hot and warm and wonderful and _perfect,_ and she clenched around him expertly at every thrust, driving him even closer to completion with every rut.

“Faster,” she cried, her own face twisting with need, her head flying back against the wall as she finally began to feel the waves of pleasure washing over her, her entire body trembling with the sensation of Michael’s cock driving into her again and again. “Look what… you do to me…” she breathed, her voice strained as she rode it out, goosebumps dotting her flesh as she shivered in his arms.

“Same… to you,” he croaked as his entire body tightened and then loosened, that deep coil finally unraveling as he shot into her, his entire body seeming to spool out of him as he came, his pulse beating rapidly and his breaths beginning to slow as he collapsed on top of her, her legs wrapping tightly against his thighs, securing him against her.

Chests heaving as they leaned against each other, Cote leaned her head up and kissed him gently, a soft, simple peck that slowly deepened into a more thorough kiss, her head turning to allow him access as he practically devoured her. He couldn’t get enough of her, and it was almost like he couldn’t seem to stop himself whenever he was alone with her, his body coming alive in a way it never had before.

“You’re killing me,” he breathed into her ear, and she shivered, leaning closer to him to seek the warmth of his body.

“You love it,” she teased, and he chuckled at that, still reluctant to move, to part from this perfect moment in time, despite needing to get changed and get the hell out of this photo studio.

“I do,” he confirmed, finally pulling out of her with a hiss, reaching to tuck himself back into his pants and attempt to straighten up. He wasn’t supposed to have this with her. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop.

“Meet you at the car in ten?” he asked, gathering up the rest of his belongings, no doubt to pick up whatever he had left behind in his dressing room. She nodded, not for the first time wondering how she would walk out of this building without looking like she’d just gotten fucked into oblivion by one Michael Weatherly.

She was finding it harder and harder to care whether she looked like that or not.

He stepped from the room then, and she began to gather her belongings. She would change her clothes, put her hair up, and go back to acting like she wasn’t affected by him, the way she had when they were being photographed, and maybe tomorrow she would be able to finally resist this pull he seemed to have over her.

“Sure,” she said to the empty room, smiling despite herself. _Sure_ she would be able to resist him, to keep from touching him and feeling him and taking him between her legs, where he would give her the greatest pleasure she had ever known. Sure.

She took one final glance around the dressing room to ensure that she had all of her belongings and then opened the door, shutting the light before stepping out into the corridor and out of the studio, and back to pretending that she wasn’t in love with a married man who made her toes curl and her body sing.


End file.
